


20xx

by platonics



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Birthday, Character Study, Childhood Friends, Depression, Dissociation, Flashbacks, Gen, Lowercase, Post-Canon, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22137349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platonics/pseuds/platonics
Summary: himiko's birthday comes, whether she likes it or not.
Relationships: Harukawa Maki & Saihara Shuichi & Yumeno Himiko, Shinguji Korekiyo & Yumeno Himiko
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	20xx

**Author's Note:**

> this is mostly a vent fic tbh  
> himikiyo can be read as platonic or romantic. even himiko herself doesn't know which, so it's up to you.

himiko was beginning to come to the conclusion that aging was just another pain. not that she wanted to die, exactly, except on the worst days. her reasoning was simpler than that. why continue being a presence in this world that would never let her be anything but a spectacle? a world so many friends had been cruelly stolen from, a world she should be _grateful_ to still exist in when they couldn't. when she got to that point, it just made her feel bad about herself, so she tried to stop thinking at all.

birthdays naturally led to reminiscing about the past, and her past only hurt to think about. she wanted to crawl deep under her rumpled covers and hide there until this day clicked over to the next. she wanted to build a mountain of everything in the apartment and bury herself underneath it so nobody would ever find her.

not even shuichi and maki, who were nothing but good to her and didn't deserve her anger, but got it anyway. in the days leading up to it, she didn't mention her birthday at all. not because she was naturally the sort to dismiss the occasion — that would make it okay. no, she used to get excited and make all sorts of plans. she stayed quiet in the hopes that they'd forget, because then the sticky, corrosive anger leaking out of all her pores would have a purpose. this emptiness would have a purpose, a justification. she'd be more than just a pathetic little girl sitting on a winter-frozen balcony and wishing to push something off the edge. maybe herself. her consciousness, even smaller than her body, could be shoved through the bars of the balustrade and fall. 

then she would be shiny, sparkly clean, no danganronpa in sight. empty.

danganronpa. the world would never tire of it. even now, two years after season 53, there were still tabloid articles about them. just last week, she saw blurry photos online of maki on her morning run, fans leering and trying to analyze the background, trying to figure out where exactly she was. himiko was the least popular of the three, something she was grateful for sometimes, aside from all the comments about how she deserved to die. it meant people weren't as interested in her, most of the time. apparently that didn't count for special occasions.

a man whistled from the window of a parked car. she ducked her head down, clutching her coat tight around her frame. 

"cute little girl like you shouldn't be out alone. you need someone to take care of ya. hey, c'mon, come gimme a kiss." 

the bakery was so close that she could smell the scent of bread and pastries wafting through the air, steam whiter than the dirty, crunchy snow lining the edges of the street. so close to what she came for, but instead, himiko turned around, walking as briskly as possible without breaking into a run. why did she think going out was a good idea anyway? her heart didn't slow down to normal until home was in sight.

all she wanted was a fucking birthday cake. she kicked the door shut behind her, taking an ugly sort of pleasure in the dirty boot-print she left behind. she stripped off her winter layers — boots, coat, scarf, gloves — all more violently than necessary. she shuffled through the quiet living room, down the short hall, fuzzy pink socks whisper soft against the dark wood floor. maki was still out, somewhere, and shuichi must be asleep, judging by the silence and his closed door.

she fetched the biggest, softest towel from the linen closet, and locked herself in the bathroom to take the hottest shower she could stand, until the mirror was opaque with steam and her skin was pink with heat. the water was stained a reddish color too as it swirled down the drain, taking vestiges of her hair dye with it. her hair was getting rather dull again, and dark roots were showing through. if she was someone else, people might say it made her look old, but she was her, and so that was the last thing she'd say. the public would rather die than give her the one thing she wanted.

she wished she looked old. she wished she looked _ancient_ , 95 or 100 years old like she felt inside, or even older than that, so the most disgusting sort of fans would stop leering at her. maybe then they'd be forced to see her as alive instead of a walking, talking loli-bait doll. himiko looked a bit young for her age, and they used cgi on the show to make her look even younger, so the nasty old men could — 

her brain cut out and didn't return until sometime after she got dressed and crawled back into bed. she let out a heavy breath and curled up on her side, damp hair falling in front of her eyes like a veil. she stared at the empty side of the room, maki's neatly made bed. the emptiness mocked her. it was past noon. maybe maki really had forgotten after all, if she still wasn't home. himiko scoffed, and just that was enough to tire her out. she rolled over onto her other side to stare at the window instead. a single tear escaped her eye, and she wiped it away with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, the cuff rough against her skin.

there was no point to any of this. all they were doing was wasting time. that was the thought that kept coming back to her mind in the many quiet moments she found herself in. thirteen of their friends trapped at eighteen forever while they continued on into a nothing-filled adulthood. a career in entertainment. what a joke. she wished she could remember why she volunteered for this, or if she really did at all. she slipped a hand beneath her collar, fingers curling around the skin-warmed metal of the locket around her neck. her thumb brushed over the bump of the pendant's hinge, and then along the edge, where she'd super-glued it shut so the ghosts wouldn't leak out.

she closed her eyes.

she remembered some things from her old self. they all did. not everything. not the most important things, arguably, the events leading up to their participation on the show, but bits and pieces that grew with time. enough to miss. enough to make her wish she didn't remember anything at all. if she didn't remember, this necklace wouldn't be one of her most important possessions. it was like a shackle to all the dead, but she'd never dream of letting it go.

_she remembered sun-warmed grass and dew-wet moss, twining branches overhead in the backyard garden. the sweet scent of flowers and the pleasant warmth of being with one of her favorite people. she remembered herself as a child, probably no older than seven or eight. her voice still unsteady with laughter as she tugged her best friend closer, grip tight on his arm. not that it needed to be — he'd never leave her side._

_she knew that for sure, with the certainty of a child. it was the wish she announced every time she blew out the candles on her birthday cake, that they’d be best friends forever. of course it’d come true._

_"kiyo-chan," she whined, still holding onto him. "c'mon, we said it's my turn to pick what to do, but you're still reading! at least read it to me if you're gonna do that." she pouted, lower lip trembling, and predictably, he melted. even back then, she knew exactly how to get to him._

_"alright, okay," he soothed, already formal for his age. "you don't have to cry. you could've picked one of your own books to read too, y'know."_

_"yeah, but it's better when you do it. please. i'll...make you a flower crown like mine." she held out the flimsy coil of leaves, stems, and petals for him to inspect, eyes wide and hopeful. he smiled, nodding._

_"i was going to do it anyway, silly. i wanna make you happy."_

_she remembered herself at twelve, dozing off on the bus. her head laid on his shoulder, and he let her rest there without so much as a halfhearted shove away. a shiny new danganronpa badge was pinned to her backpack. one of korekiyo's hands held the book he was reading, and the other pet her hair. his nails were glittery red, catching the sunlight. she bought him the polish with her allowance, since he wasn't allowed to, and he got her the badge in exchange._

_"better not fall asleep until we get home," he warned, which earned only a sleepy laugh._

_"you mean you won't carry me?"_

_"no way." his voice was gentle though, and he kissed her forehead right afterward. the other girls at school, when they weren't making fun of her, asked her what it was like to have a boyfriend. she'd stopped trying to explain it wasn't like that._

_she remembered herself at fifteen, braiding his hair as they sat in front of the tv, blood splattering from danganronpa's latest victim. sketches were spread across the coffee table, ideas for their own matching ultimates. not that they'd join for real, but it was fun to imagine._

_"we'd win together," she said, in the easy, nothing way of talking about things that had no real consequences._

_"of course we would. there'd be no better team."_

_she remembered herself at sixteen, kissing them goodnight in the dark. she'd meant to kiss their cheek, but her aim was off, and she landed at the corner of their lips instead, which then settled into a proper kiss. that was okay too, the lingering taste of makeup remover and chapstick. they were just friends, best friends. (himiko no longer had all the puzzle pieces to know whether that was the truth). the two of them had never stopped having sleepovers as they grew older, though their families likely would have preferred it that way._

_they whispered about nothing in particular as they drifted off to sleep, until maki came in and turned on all the lights._

maki? 

himiko cracked an eye open, seeing maki's blurry figure standing above her. she'd opened the curtains, and pulled the blankets off himiko's head, letting in the weak winter sunlight. 

"happy birthday," she said, lips twitching into something almost like a smile. "a little early to take a nap, isn't it? you can't sleep through your own party."

"party?" himiko echoed fuzzily. 

"well, it's nothing too exciting. just the three of us, obviously. but we got you a cake, and a few presents." maki tugged at one of her twintails, looking a little embarrassed. "shuichi even hung up some streamers in the living room. you should come see." 

so she did. she dragged herself up even though all her limbs felt like they were made of lead, and she ambled down the hall after maki. 

it looked charming, it really did. red and white streamers, even a little banner announcing 'happy birthday himiko!' the cake sitting on the coffee table was far too large for the three of them. they'd be eating leftovers until it went stale. the thought made her chuckle, and the earnest desire for approval written all over shuichi's face kept a smile on her own. 

she grinned, but she still felt so empty. her friends did this for her, she thought as they started to sing happy birthday. maki lit the two candles on the cake. they were the kind specifically for birthdays, colorful and shaped like numbers. two zero. twenty. her friends did this, and all she could feel was disappointment. disappointment that she didn't have more, disappointment that this didn't make her as happy as it should. himiko blew out the candles, fingers clutching her locket once again as she held onto the scent of smoke. 

"thanks, guys," she murmured, sitting down on the couch. she was something separate from herself, watching this scene. it didn't look like the others could tell. 

she stole a precariously perched icing flower before shuichi started cutting the cake, and licked it off her finger. the sugar tasted hyper-real, realer than her, pink and purple on her tongue. 

"did you make a wish?" he asked. 

"yeah, but if i say it, it won't come true."

**Author's Note:**

> comments are appreciated <3


End file.
